


Touch

by capeofstorm



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/pseuds/capeofstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder is feeling a bit... warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

Mohinder Suresh wasn't a man who lost control or concentration easily. He believed in applying himself to a problem as much as possible, in order to understand it and find a solution to it. His mother often remarked how he made a great conversationalist, the way he gave his undivided attention to every person he spoke with. Mohinder prided himself in being in control of himself.

It was their routine meeting on Monday mornings, when his department went over their plans for the week and goals for the future. Ever since the Company went down, Mohinder decided to settle down in New York with Molly. Being the responsible adult he was, Mohinder took up a position of a Professor in the Biotechnology Department at the NYU. He was well off, acquired the respect of his colleagues and wished for nothing more. His life with Molly was quite stable; their family of two wasn't perfect or normal – because normal never applied to them. Matt would drop by and whisk Molly to his place for weekends, leaving Mohinder to his own devices. Mohinder still kept in touch with his band of freaks, as Claire affectionately named their group of friends with abilities. They had nothing to worry about, since that Kirby Plaza night. Peter and Nathan survived – quite miraculously, as Mohinder had a hard time believing that Claire's power was able to patch them up after exploding – and they got rid of Sylar for good. They hadn't found his body, but Mohinder didn't let that bother him. No-one could survive such a blood loss. Even if Peter and Nathan survived an atomic explosion.

One of his fellow geneticists just started to recount his lectures from past week when Mohinder almost jumped as he felt hand sliding over his thigh. He looked to his left to see one of his colleagues, Martin Blackley staring at the head of their department and warming his hands on a cup of coffee. Mohinder did a double take. Martin had both hands on his cup, so his palm couldn't be inching up Mohinder's left thigh. Mohinder looked around the table he and his co-workers were sitting at. No one else was close enough to touch him like that. He was confused and confusion wasn't something he liked. There was only one possibility, Mohinder thought as the invisible hand grazed over his crotch. Possibility that would at once make him happy and throw him into frenzy again. Mohinder shut his eyes tightly and bit his lip to halt a little moan. His brows furrowed as he thought and willed himself not to react.

“You all right, Suresh?” Patty MacLannan, sitting to his right asked.

Mohinder just nodded. Okay, maybe he was out of it, working too hard and imagining hands on his thighs. Yes, that was it, he thought with a frown, he was working too hard and his senses were playing a trick on him. He knew he was lying to himself, but living a lie was never safer than right that moment. Because if he faced the facts, it would mean admitting that he was wrong about something. And if there was something else Mohinder didn't like besides not being in control of himself, it was admitting that he was wrong. He exhaled gently as the hand – trick of his mind, he reminded himself – stilled. Mohinder looked back at the head of his department and concentrated on him again.

“Suresh, how's your study coming along? Were you able to identify which part of DNA causes the mutations?”

Mohinder cleared his throat and opened his mouth to reply when he felt that blasted hand – an illusion, illusion! - squeeze his hip. He let out an undignified squeak instead of his carefully thought out answer.

Everyone looked at him questioningly and Mohinder felt blush creep onto his cheeks. He cleared his throat again, trying to contain a small moan, as the hand caressed his right hip. He mentally cursed himself and his blasted weakness for having his hips caressed.

“Ah, I believe I'm close to finding it. I still have a few more samples to go through, but I made a progress,” he replied as steadily as he could.

“Are you all right, my boy? You seem awfully flushed.”

Mohinder cursed in his head as he felt another hand massage his stomach, tracing a path from his navel to his pubic hair. He clenched his muscles in hope of making it go away.

“I- I'm fine, a bit tired. Sorry, it won't happen again.”

The head of his department smiled jovially.

“Nonsense, my boy. You've been working too hard, really. You haven't taken a day off since you came here over a year ago. If you need time for yourself, just say so. I don't want you working yourself sick, you got that?”

Mohinder nodded, sending a tight lipped smile at his superior.

“If you'll excuse me, I think I need a breath of air. I'll leave my report for you on your desk by five o'clock,” he said as he stood up, picking his jacket and nodding to his colleagues.

Mohinder hoped he walked normally, since one of the hands moved on to his... private areas and started to fondle him. He was almost out of the door when he felt one of the hands pinch his arse. He squeaked and jumped a bit. He bolted out of the door and closed it behind him, knowing that his behaviour raised more than one questioning eyebrow in the conference room he just left. He moved quickly towards his office, went in, closed the door and blinds on the windows. He made it to his comfortable, squishy leather chair and let out a long drawn moan.

The hands he felt moved deliciously over his length, creating a friction and making him harder. Mohinder moaned loudly and clapped his hands over his mouth. One of hands moved up his chest to pinch his nipples. Mohinder pushed his chest into the invisible touch, moaning around his hand.

Okay, he thought fervently, maybe my sexual abstinence finally took a toll on me and I imagine someone petting me – oooh, that felt so good – and touching me in a sexual manner. The sooner I give in, the sooner it goes away and I can forget about it, yes.

He felt a hand rub over his sac and whimpered lightly. It felt so good, maybe he should start going out again, he was alone for far too long. Hand moved over his cock, squeezing it at the base, moving up and thumbing his weeping head. His pants felt too constricting as he fumbled with his belt and zipper. He moaned loudly as he got rid of his trousers. The hand on his length did amazing things – things he didn't know were possible to do – and he thrust forward into the invisible hand. The other hand left his sac and moved to his cleft, fingering it gently but insistently. He felt another set of hands pinch his nipples and the train of his thoughts was suddenly cut off. Invisible lips trailed kisses along his neck and he threw his head back, to give them more access.

“Oh God, yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth. He was so close, so close...

He felt a finger enter him swiftly, brushing that spot inside and it took him all his will power not to come at that moment. He wanted to prolong it, to finally let his imagination run wild. He bit his lip as he imagined the invisible hands materialising as large, warm ones, long and nimble fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, in and out, in hypnotising movement. His hips moved to the rhythm established by invisible fingers, grounding up and down, up and down. The lips on his neck became full and pouty and he remembered how good they felt. His senses went into overdrive, his eyelids closed tightly. But under them he still could see those brown eyes and expression of pure pleasure on his phantom lover's face as he came. It was all it took and he orgasmed, with a name on his lips. Mohinder fell back onto the chair, his limbs felt as if made of jelly. His breathing still erratic, Mohinder tugged himself back into his trousers and leaned his head against the chair.

That was something new and different and some part of Mohinder wished it was caused by someone, someone he knew to be dead. As his mind started working again, Mohinder recalled that only one man, he knew of, had the power of telekinesis – for he was quite sure his pleasure was induced by someone with telekinetic powers.

“Sylar is dead,” he told himself dejectedly.

And it's a bloody good thing, too, he thought angrily, I cannot be in lust with a psychopathic killer. It simply cannot be.

He stood up angrily and walked over to table with water jug, poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp. He went back to his desk, sat behind it and started to work on the report he promised his superior.

***

Sylar laughed silently as he watched Mohinder stroll through his office. The poor geneticist wouldn't know what hit him, if Sylar had his way. The invisibility power he took from that man – Raines, his mind supplied – certainly came in handy.


End file.
